


The Pelican of the Night

by Lizardbeth



Category: Amelia Peabody - Elizabeth Peters
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-18
Updated: 2006-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David understands.  David has always understood everything. (Ramses/David)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pelican of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jocondite

 

 

Spoilers: This is set immediately after "Seeing a Large Cat" and therefore spoils the end of that book. Please do not read on if you want to remain unspoiled.

* * *

_It is he who guarded me who releases me,_  
who binds his hand on me and thrusts his hand on to me on earth,  
the mouth of the Pelican is opened for me,  
and I go out into the day to the place where I desire to be.  
\-- Book of the Dead, No. 68

 

The burble of the river and the faint knocking of the dahabeeya against the wood of the dock were the only sounds to break the night. Ramses smoked a cigarette, bare feet dangling over the side of the deck, and watched the moonlight's reflection on the river. David had gone to bed already, but Ramses couldn't sleep.

Ramses shuddered once, feeling cold, still hearing that _sound_. Bellingham had died under his hands. Of course, Ramses would do it all again, and he knew it. The man had been a killer -- had intended to kill his mother -- and Ramses would protect her and Nefret to the very end of his life. He just wished he hadn't heard that _sound_.

With effort he turned his attention to more pleasant things.

Mrs. Whitney-Jones had left with Miss Bellingham for Cairo, but Ramses was sure she would return to accept Cyrus' proposal of marriage. He was glad, for he liked them both and he thought they would get on well together. But mostly he was glad because he knew his mother had taken a liking to her, and if his mother had a friend during the season she would be less likely to get in trouble. Somewhat less likely, he amended fondly.

So it was all over, but for Nefret.

His insides twisted and knotted up at the thought. God. Nefret. What was he going to do about her? He wanted her so badly -- to touch that golden hair and the pink lips. Her casual touch, the way she would grip his arm or touch his hand, was agony because he knew she didn't feel the same. He was a boy to her. Her brother.

And he wanted to be more to her. So much more.

He closed his eyes. There had been no question that he and David had been men in Sheikh Mohammed's camp. It was so hard to return to his parents, who treated him like a child, though they at least were entitled, and to Nefret who called him "dear boy" all the time, rubbing salt so unintentionally into his wound.

He'd returned and seen Nefret with a man's eyes. The dagger had driven into his chest that she wasn't for him.

He'd learned so much. He'd learned to be a man; he knew what men could do with women and how it felt. He knew that he wanted it with Nefret. To kiss her lips, and touch her body and feel himself enter her.

He was just a boy to her.

Frustrated, and all too aware of the heavy feeling between his legs, Ramses threw his cigarette overboard and decided to go below before he was tempted to open his pants right there.

But proper English gentlemen did not do such things, no matter how frustrated and angry and **warm** they felt.

When he went through the passageway, he saw that David's door was open. "Ramses?" came the quiet voice.

Ramses entered the narrow cabin, ducking his head from the doorframe. The dim light from his lamp reached the bed, illuminating David like something out of the past. David was propped up on one elbow, with the sheet down at his waist and bare above that. His skin looked dark against the white linen, but pale compared to the pure black of his hair.

"Bellingham still troubles you?" David asked softly.

Ramses shook his head. "Nefret." He paused, unwilling to speak of this even to his best friend, and then burst out, "I want her so much. I want -- " his voice trailed off and he couldn't meet his friend's eyes. It seemed shameful that he should speak aloud all the things he wanted to do to Nefret. "I was going to my cabin to, uh, well..."

David understood. But then, David always understood everything. He didn't smile, but his eyes were very intent on Ramses. "I could help you, if you like."

Ramses frowned, "What do you mean?" he asked, while suddenly realizing he did. He knew exactly what David was offering.

"Like that night we smoked the hashish in the sheikh's camp," David murmured.

The delirious memories of that night in the tent were enough to make Ramses dizzy. Everything had seemed so oddly distorted and yet so pleasant, especially when he and David had found themselves without their clothes and their hands on each other. Ramses' palm tingled with the tactile memory of touching David **there**.

Ramses shut his eyes, remembering David's hand on him and how different it had felt from his own. David had stroked him until he gasped and spurted off like a fountain, and the pleasure of it had been like a wave of fire. A shiver went through him. That night, hashish or no, had felt more intense than when the sheikh had paid for him and David to learn what to do with women.

"We're alone here on the boat tonight," David added. "No one will visit at this hour." When Ramses didn't move or speak, David added in Arabic, "There is no shame for men to take relief in one another when there are no women. That is what Selim told me."

Ramses nodded and opened his eyes. "Are you sure?" Because he knew this was different than drug-induced groping in a tent. This was sober and conscious, and it seemed a step beyond what was proper. But Ramses was not sure, himself, and the memory of what David had done was fresh and sharp and made him need it again.

David's teeth flashed in a grin. "I am not so proper as you, my friend. I say we enjoy our time here on the boat without our parents and others to interrupt. And you need relief from your fantasies."

Ramses couldn't help a smile and moved closer. "And you don't?" he teased.

David sat up all the way and reached out to snag his fingers around Ramses' belt and tug him to the edge of the bed. "Every day, Ramses," he answered in a murmur, less amused than Ramses expected. David ducked his head to work the buckle and open the trousers.

The trousers fell down to his ankles. Ramses stood there, dressed only in his underclothes, and felt abruptly awkward. It wasn't as if he and David hadn't been naked together many times to wash and change clothes, and yet this time he felt it was different.

David tipped his head back to look into his face. "Ramses?"

"I don't know. I feel -- I don't want to use you as a substitute. It seems wrong. You're my best friend, not second place for Nefret."

David rolled his eyes. "You English! Can you never just **feel** something, and not think all the passion out of it?" His hands were suddenly on Ramses thighs and sliding up to lay over his groin. The linen didn't block the warmth of his hand or the feel of his fingers at all. Ramses froze and could not have moved if he'd wanted to.

What was David doing? Their time with Sheikh Mohammed had certainly made him bold. Ramses felt a hysterical laugh straining to get out, and tamped it down. David rubbed him once, and Ramses forgot that he should object. He couldn't find his voice suddenly, but David obviously took the jerk of his hips, pushing himself deeper into David's touch, as agreement.

"I don't mind, Ramses. Let me help you," he whispered as he slowly pulled the undershorts down over Ramses hips.

Ramses stepped out and was naked. Those long, graceful artists' fingers of David's were on his thighs again, trailing upward until they brushed across the hair of his balls and then very lightly across the very tip of his cock.

A jolt went through him at the touch, and he knew his cock really didn't care who was touching it, as long as someone did. "Oh. Yes."

David smiled. "I told you," he teased and scooted back toward the wall, throwing the sheet aside so Ramses could join him.

Ramses was not surprised that David was naked, too, but he was a little shocked at himself that he felt disappointed that David wasn't aroused. His hand tingled again with the memory of the firm, yet soft flesh and how David, usually so quiet and soft-spoken, had turned into a demanding, loud, foul-mouthed beast when Ramses had brought him off.

He sat on the bed, and David pushed him back to lie down, while he knelt at Ramses' side. "You know, you might have been killed," he murmured, and put his hands on Ramses' stomach. "I don't know what I'd do if you were gone."

A light teasing touch sliding down his flanks made Ramses shudder. "David -- "

"Be quiet," David hushed him. "None of your English talking too much and doing too little."

His hand settled between Ramses legs, cupping him again. Ramses parted his legs with a sigh, to give David more room. David's hand rubbed him there, back and forth, stirring his cock and making his balls start to ache with a need that spread through his whole body.

"That feels so good," Ramses said and bit his lip to keep back an embarrassing moan. He threw out his hand to try to touch David in return. He couldn't quite reach David's groin, but found the curve of his ass and caressed what he could.

David's fingers wrapped his rising cock, and Ramses' head went back against the bed as he tried to push into David's hand. His neck muscles tightened, and he had to breathe through his clenched teeth.

Then David's hands stopped, holding him at the base. "What -- why did you -- " Ramses started to ask. But David answered the question, without speaking, by lowering his head.

Ramses jerked at the touch of what could only be David's tongue licking the head of his cock. "Oh good God! David! What are you -- "

He was shocked, and yet, dear heaven, he suddenly couldn't breathe. .

David didn't tell him to be quiet again, but silenced him just as effectively, by wrapping his lips around the cock and sliding down.

It was hot and tight and utterly perfect, especially when David was moving, forward and back, with his hand wrapped around the base, moving in tandem with his mouth. And his tongue was still doing things, rubbing and teasing.

Ramses glanced down his body and saw the image they made, and he grew hot with embarrassment and something else entirely at what someone would see entering the room. Ramses had his legs spread wide and wanton, and David's head was between them, with Ramses' erection in his mouth.

He watched as long as he could, as his cock was engulfed between David's lips, again and again, until he dropped his head back to ride the feelings. He grabbed handfuls of sheet in his fists to have something to hold. It was so good, the steady rhythm that was balancing him on the knife edge.

Ramses heard himself pleading for David to finish him off, but he wasn't thinking the words, they were just coming out of him. He could think of nothing but David's mouth and his hand and the heated pleasure rising through him.

Then David's other hand reappeared from wherever it had been, first caressing the tight balls and then behind them, stroking and then pressing along the ridge there.

For an instant there was a knot of pure fire in his groin and then it exploded through his cock and up his spine in wave after wave. He managed to get David's name out, but his voice stopped working and he could only pant like a landed fish.

His heart was pounding hard and he was dripping with sweat from his face, chest, and the back of his bent knees. He still trying to find breath, when he said a heartfelt thank you in Arabic, both to David and to God.

David wiped his mouth and sat up. His gaze seemed depthless in the dark, but the smirk on his face needed no translation. "Feel better?" he asked with mocking solicitude.

"I feel like you sucked out my soul. Dear Lord, David, how did you know how to do that?"

The smile disappeared and Ramses could have kicked himself. There were parts of David's early life which even Ramses didn't know, but he did know there had always been more and worse than counterfeiting artifacts.

Ramses figured he needed to leave that subject alone and added hastily, "It felt really phenomenal. And now -- since I wouldn't want to be accused of being unfair, it's your turn." He rolled over, almost pouncing, pushing David into the wall with Ramses atop him.

Ramses could feel David's erection poking him in the thigh. "I know you swear like a goat herder when you're close," Ramses whispered in his ear while his hands explored the body beneath him in sweeping strokes. "We should name **you** "Father of Curses" not my father. Swear for me, David."

His hand crept lower, slowly, until David shuddered. "Don't tease," he said, his tone between an order and a plea. His hips squirmed, as he tried to rub himself against Ramses.

But Ramses gripped David's erection in his hand, rubbing his thumb against the tip until David gasped and swore at him in fractured Arabic, something about being the son of a whore. Ramses just smirked and kept on doing it. He loved the feel of it, the softness of the skin covering the hardening member and how he could bring his hand up and down the shaft.

David swore some more, loudly, and tried to thrust into Ramses' hand. Then he gasped and his whole body stiffened. He let out a shout and erupted all over Ramses's hand and his own stomach.

While he recovered, Ramses grabbed his handkerchief from where it had fallen on the floor and wiped them both clean.

Then he stretched out next to David and twitched the sheet over them both. He couldn't sleep here all night, but he was too exhausted to go to his own room yet. A few hours' sleep wouldn't go amiss.

David's arm slipped across him and he murmured, "Sometimes a starving man must content himself with crumbs, when he has no hope of a meal."

Ramses wanted to ask what he meant, but he was too drowsy to form the words.

Soft lips pressed a kiss on his temple, and that was the last thing Ramses felt before sleep claimed him.

 

 

 


End file.
